Even An End Has A Start
by LydiaTheOriginalHellion
Summary: Raphael charged the lightening rune of his electric car and took his family on a journey they would never forget. Between doing odd jobs and meeting bizarre characters, Raphael falls in love with Anders, an apostate with two personalities. The 'other guy' doesn't take kindly to their blossoming relationship and does everything he can to drive them apart, even if it kills Anders.


_**ALL HAIL THE MIGHT BIOWARE! It's their world; I just play with it!**_

_I have not, currently do not nor will I ever make money off of this story.  
_

_**Warning;**_

_**Rated M **__for:_

_**A**dult **L**anguage_

_**V**__iolence_

_**S**__exual__** S**__ituations_

_**D**__rug __and__** A**__lcohol References_

Review/favorite and not only will I love you forever but I'll be sure to immortalize you when I upload the next chapter!

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_And, in case my summery wasn't clear enough, this story will revolve around Raphael and Anders...**two dudes**! Don't like it? Don't read it!_

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_**Chapter One: To Kill A Mocking Hawke**_

A well placed kicked to the chest sent Malcolm Hawke sprawling onto the ground. He glanced to his left to see that the kick had broken his staff in half and was currently rendered

useless. _"Fuck."_ He cursed inwardly and spat a wad of blood onto the ground. With a wry smile, Malcolm sat up and glared up at the towering Templar agent. "Who teaches the

Thedas Templar Organization to fight? Surely, it must be the _Orlesians_." The remark earned him a backhanded smack with the Templar's heavy plate gauntlet. "Maleficarum

_scum!_" The Templar growled, spewing phlegm through gnashed teeth. Malcolm lurched forward, braced himself with his arms and coughed more blood onto the already blood

soaked earth. After wiping his face with his emerald robe sleeve, Malcolm donned a surprised veneer and looked around. "Maleficarum? Where?" Turning his attention back to the

Templar, he coyly added, "Maybe you should _do your job_ and go get _them_." The Templar roared with righteous anger and stomped on Malcolm's outstretched hand, breaking it.

"Oh, you delectable tease! Careful now; I like it rough, big boy." The red faced Templar aimed a kick at Malcolm's head that was avoided by Malcolm rolling onto his back.

Malcolm laughed with maddening mirth as he continuously rolled to avoid the Templar's furious stomping. "Now Father, what have I told you about frolicking with the Templar

agents? They tend not to play very fair." Malcolm and the Templar cocked their heads to see a raven haired mage striding over dead darkspawn and the corpses of local

townsmen towards them. "Too right you are, Raphael; this one is a hellish brute and absolutely no fun at all. He's really quite a_ bore_." Malcolm shouted across the field to his son.

"You, Templar; how about you fight someone who's weapon is not broken?" Raphael sneered and pointed his staff at the bewildered man. "In the name of the Maker and his

prophet Andraste; The Order dictates..." "The Order dictates that you ramble off some nonsense and smite me with your holy sword of justice, yes? I have a better idea." With a

half cocked smirk, Raphael held out his hand and let low, yellow flames engulf it. "Let's get right to the good part." Raphael let out a battle cry, causing the flame to engulf his

hand in brilliant azure flames and lobbed it at the Templar's chest. The Templar grunted as the fireball made contact and flung him to far end of the muddy battlefield. "You'll pay

for that, _mage_!" The Templar hollered as fought to stand but only managed to flail like an overturned turtle. The agent managed to stand up but before the hapless Templar could

caste his anti-magic spells, Raphael dragged the bayoneted tip of his staff against the ground and cut a a line in the dirt. From the line burst forth a wave of ice shards that chased

the Templar only a meter before the tips pierced and hoisted the man off of his feet. Although the ice crystals were already thawing, they had done what they were intended to

do; to pierce every major organ of the agent. Hot blood sprayed forth and colored the disappearing ice briefly with crimson. "M-m-maker...preserve..." Was all the agent

managed to choke out before bleeding out and slumping to the ground with a thud. "That's...that's my boy." Malcolm hollered and slowly got to his feet, using his unbroken hand

to push himself up. "You've been practicing." Malcolm said with a small smirk as Raphael came up to him with an identical look of bemusement on his face. "Of course I have.

Have you seen all the darkspawn around? I've have unlimited opportunity to get my technique down." Malcolm clapped his son of the back with his unbroken hand. "And I see

you've been working hard on your staff crafting...flawless work, son. I see you still have a flair for silver and the smithing of it." Malcolm admired the staff for a moment and

gently touched the blade affixed to the top of the staff. "I learned from the best." Raphael said brightly. Malcolm flicked his black hair our of his silver eyes and merely laughed,

"Well of course you did; that goes without saying. Now, I wonder...have you found a way hide the blade?" Raphael rolled his eyes and tamped the ground with the bottom of his

staff. Everything, including the blade, collapsed in on itself and the staff now resembled a thick and intricate cane. Malcolm let out a boisterous laugh and clapped his son's back

again. "The student has surpassed the master." Malcolm said with undeniable pride. "That goes without saying." Raphael said playfully. Malcolm's previously joyous face suddenly

contorted into a pained expression and he gazed down to his chest. "Father, what's wrong..." Raphael eyes followed suit and as his eyes found Malcolm's chest, he gagged at the

sight; the tip of a barbed arrowhead stuck out of Malcolm's chest. "_Father!_" Raphael whimpered as Malcolm collapsed in his arms. Carefully, he laid is father on his side and turned

to face the Templar archer in the distance. "**_Coward_!**" He yelled to the Templar archer fumbling with the quiver strapped to his back, "You would attack a man while his back is

turned?" Raphael charged the man, feeling his mana surge like righteous fire within him. The Templar slung his quiver around his heavy plate but the strap got stuck, causing the

arrows to tumble to the ground. Raphael quickly closed the distance between them and grabbed the archer by the throat. "I'm just...doing...the will of the..." Raphael didn't let

him finish. Raphael forced him up against a nearby tree and held his jaw open. With his free hand, Raphael covered the Templars screaming maw with his palm. The Templar

struggled violently as water started cascading into his mouth. In vain the Templar tried coughing out the water filling his lungs only to infuriate Raphael further, resulting in an even

stronger stream being forced into his body. Terrified brown eyes started to roll back as the Templar slowly drowned. With a final few thrashes and wriggles, the Templar slumped

dead at Raphael's feet. "Raph...ael..." Malcolm choked out and Raphael hurried to his side. "Dad...I'm sorry, this is going to hurt." Raphael mumbled before placing one hand on his

father's chest and one on the barbed arrow. With a quick jerk, Raphael ripped the tip off and flung it away from them. "There isn't...much time." Malcolm choked out, spraying

blood onto his robes. "You must...get the letter in my...in my...pocket..." Malcolm coughed up another mouthful of blood and weakly reached into his robe pocket. He pulled out

a rolled up piece of parchment and shoved it into Raphael's hand. Raphael clutched the letter in one hand and his father's hand in the other. "Dad...I don't know any healing

magic!" Malcolm laughed slightly and squeezed Raphael's hand tightly to his chest. "It's my fault, Raphael. If I wasn't looking for my friend, I wouldn't have been...killed."

"Don't...don't say that! You'll... you'll be fine!" Raphael's silver eyes were slowly being tinted red by the tears falling from them. "Shh...it's okay. Tell your mother that you found

me like this. You know how...how she'll act if she thinks it's...your...fault. It's not...never...never blame yourself for..." Malcolm sighed and his grip loosened. "Father...FATHER?!"

Raphael roughly shook the man who would never answer. Raphael stood and aggressively wiped the tears from his eyes. "Damn it...damn it all." Raphael muttered as he opened

the letter:

_Raphael,_

_If you are reading this, then I have passed on to the Void, the Fade or where ever godless apostates go when they die. I, with a heavy heart, leave the care of our family in your _

_hands; the eldest and most magically gifted of my children. Duncan, an old friend of mine from the Grey Wardens, believes that this occurrence of darkspawn in the south is not _

_to be taken lightly. I ventured south to find out for myself and I fear that he is correct; a true Blight is upon us. I feel the sickness and I hear the darkness calling out. A horde _

_of massive proportions is marching north and it will only be a matter of time before they hit Lothering. **It is not safe there!** I need you to gather the family and take them away  
_

_from Lothering, if not from Ferelden entirely. My son, you were an endless joy as a child. You were always laughing, caring for your siblings and practicing so hard on your magic _

_and staff crafting. You were and still are such an intelligent and talented mage. I dare say that given some more training, perhaps in Tevinter, you would become one of the _

_more powerful mages that has ever roamed Thedas. I am infinitely proud of the man that you have become. It is with a great sadness that I must now bid you goodbye._

_ I love you, son.  
_

Raphael held the letter out in front of him and with a sigh, set it aflame. He inwardly damned his father for mentioning to his magical talents in the letter for if he had not, he would

have kept it. Being an apostate in Ferelden was dangerous enough. Having anything on you that would mark you as such was the equivalent of wearing a brazen sign that read,

"Quick, send for a Templar agent! I am maleficarum and I've come to devour your young!" As the ashes of the letter blew away in a gust of wind, Raphael knelt down on one

knee and laid his gloved hand upon his father's broad brow. He peered into his fathers eerily similar silver eyes before he ran his hand over his father's face and closed his father's

eyelids. Raphael stood solemnly, placed his hands and arms parallel with Malcolm's body and spread his fingers wide. With a solemn and cracking voice, Raphael recited a eulogy

that he had heard his father give once long ago. "Born from the ashes of a star we are, in death we will be ashes once more. I give your body to Mother Earth, to nurture her as

she once nurtured you. Goodbye, father." Raphael engulfed his father's corpse in a fierce, quickly spreading blue flame and rendered his body to ashes. He gazed one last time

upon the make shift effigy before he turned heel and raced as fast as his long legs would carry him towards Lothering.


End file.
